Promises
by BlueDaze
Summary: Sequel to Eternal Things. Mostly Vaughn centered.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Promises

Author: BlueDaze

Genre: Drama, Angst, and maybe some romantic stuff

Spoilers: none in this chapter

Rating: PG 13 in this chapter will most likely turn R in later ones.

Reviews: Yes, absolutely.

Disclaimer: Alias is not mine. 

Summary: This is the sequel to Eternal Things. There is also another story called Player that I planned to be the prologue to Promises but it was Sark-centered so now it's a standalone. But it pretty much relates to my first fic. Anyways, Promises is mainly focused on Vaughn. But Sydney, Irina and Sark will show up sooner or later.

Without

_I played the fool again_

_And I see us vanishing into the ground_

_Longing for home again_

_But home is a feeling I buried in you_

_I'm alright, I'm alright_

_It only hurts when I breathe_

_            "Breathe" by Greeenwheel_

            The rain fell like so many glittering diamonds against the backdrop of the dusk. Michael Vaughn smiled an ironic little smile. _Always darkest before the dawn, he thought as he took another sip off his scotch. He stared outside his window, restless and perhaps a bit tipsy. He sighed. Since when had everything become so gloomy? There was once a time when a starry twilight existed behind the rain clouds that now blanketed the night. But it had been so long since he had seen them that he had already begun to forget what they look like. When evening fell, the city of angels became a wet wonderland of showers and thunderstorms._

            He didn't know why his heart had all of a sudden turned against the rainy season. Something about those ominous clouds kept him at a distance and made him wonder when he would ever see the sun again. Not that it mattered when he did; it was all murky to him. She was gone…what did it matter if the sun was hidden away in a cave somewhere or if it shined incessantly. He would not feel its presence either way.

            The last time he truly felt the sunlight was when Sydney Bristow told him, her face completely dispassionate, to stay away from her. And that was all it took really.

            He believed in her. He loved her and cherished her and gave her all the faith he had in the world. She knew that. She still chose to walk away from all the devotion he had selflessly offered her. She had already robbed him of his reason, marred his spotless record with the CIA, and forced him to break federal law on several occasions. He nearly died for love of her. 

            But all these sacrifices were nothing; they could not even purchase a good-bye from her.

            And yes, in all honesty he was a little resentful for that.

            There was no justice in the world. In his opinion, it was a cold and ruthless place which could take a man's reason using only a pair of luminous brown eyes and a shy, sensual smile. He felt he had lost everything except the haunting memory of her face which never lingered far. It was a poor substitute for the real thing.

            But still, he would rather torment himself with her memory than if he had never met her.

It was all because of that damn promise.

Vaughn pushed away the file he had been reading, disgusted with himself and his weaknesses. He dropped his exhausted body against his sofa and anxiously waited for sleep to come. He knew it would be with great resistance.

The agent profile he had just read landed in a pile of photographs. Pictures he took out only when necessity, loneliness and longing, forced him to stare at them. Stare at them and think of her. Each photograph displayed the same face.

            A girl. A woman. In his eyes, she was a creature with equal measures of darkness and radiance in her features. She was beautiful, naturally.

            The picture taken for the case profile was sterilized as was the CIA standard. When he looked at it he saw a lovely and professional woman; black and white gave no justice to her exquisiteness.

            He liked the candid and colored ones best. The ones where she smiled (he missed her smile among other things) and it was revealed that she had the most adorable dimples in the world.  In the vivid photos he took (usually without her knowledge) she was vibrant and hopeful. His. 

            She just didn't know it. Or perhaps she did but knew the risk of saying so. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that they belonged to each other.

            He would never call himself a stalker. He was too sensible to be termed that. He was just a firm believer in soul mates especially since he had found his own. 

            She had banished him from her life but the yearning was still there. Vaughn let out a groan and pressed a pillow to his face. He shut his eyes.

            And he remembered… he remembered that day at Francie Calfo's grave. The sorrow and resignation on Sydney's face.  How he thought that she was the most graceful woman in the universe even when she was in grief. 

            Then she spoke. It was his promise, his condemnation which she called him on. Her eyes begged him to understand. He didn't want to. 

            He always knew his heart would break if he were ever severed from Sydney Bristow's life. But the fact that the exile had come from her own lips was enough to crush it and hurtle his soul into a black hole.

            She didn't want him anymore. He might as well be dead.

            Vaughn tossed the pillow aside. His face was smeared with a wetness that always accompanied the memories. The night and day when everything went so horribly wrong.

            Francie, innocent Francie, in that body bag.

            Sydney, dead-eyed, pushed into the police car.

            The home video Sark had sent to his office which simultaneously cleared Sydney's name and made Vaughn want to vomit.

            But what hurt the most were the last words Sydney had said to him:

            "Stay. Away. From me."

            Then he watched her walk away as every particle in his being screamed at her to turn around and see the devastation she had left in her wake.

            Now each time he flipped his special coin, the way the light flickered on its surface only served to remind him of the way her hair glowed. The way she glowed.

            Agony came quickly this time. It thrust a stake through his heart and God help him he couldn't breathe without her. He clutched his glass of alcohol and brought it to his mouth.

            The scotch tasted acrid on his lips and it fed the bitter passion which had already festered in his soul. Poison on poison, any way to deaden the pain.

            "Goddamnit Sydney! Why!" He stared as the mirror shattered when the cup crashed into it. Glass fragmented and an amber fluid splattered a broken pattern on the off white walls.

            So many things had shattered already. Sydney's delicate grip on reality, Francie's body, his heart. 

            Everything was broken and damn he would have to clean up that mess he made later. 

            He was on his feet and he paced the room, unsure of what he wanted to destroy next. He rubbed his hands across his face and he tried to pick out the last good memory he ever had. He found none forthcoming. Instead he recalled the conversation he had with Jack Bristow a few weeks after the death of Francie. He'd been curious (desperate) to know what Sydney's condition was. 

            _"I wouldn't know," Jack Bristow said his voice shaky. "__Sydney__ has cut me out of her life. Mr. Tippin has not spoken to her either."_

_            "She can't just lock herself away!" Vaughn argued. "It's not healthy! She needs someone! (I need her)"_

_            But Jack heard the underlying meaning in his words._

_            With sympathy he said "She needs time, Mr. Vaughn."_

            So he gave her time. Two months ago he gave her all the time in the world to grieve. His affection for her would've made him willing to wait for infinity.

            Frustration got in the way first. As weeks passed, he came to realize that she would not come around any day soon. Probably not in the next ever.

            For the first time, Michael Vaughn knew what it was like to lose Sydney Bristow. It felt like madness, wrong and unreal. It was ironic. He would never have believed it. It wasn't death or deceit or protocol that finally succeeded in tearing them apart.

             It was a promise. A promise that he had so impulsively made that day in the cemetery. 

            If he was any less honorable than he knew he was, he would've thrown the damn oath out the window. Love was supposed to conquer all obstacles. Shouldn't that be enough to trump one lousy promise?

            _No, he decided. In Sydney's eyes it wouldn't be. His father told him once that a gentleman was nothing if he could not keep a promise. As a gentleman, he had to respect her wishes. _

            Even if it obliterated every dream he held of her. Even if the longer he stayed away from her the more his obsession grew.

            _She's made her choice. Now we'll both just have to with it._

_            He didn't want to live with it. He wanted to die because of it._

            Maybe Vaughn was being melodramatic. Weiss would say he was being a crybaby. He only wished that he could trivialize it so easily. That would prove somewhat that his feelings for Sydney was nothing more than an infatuation.

            But then he remembered what it felt like whenever she looked at him. Really looked at him. When formality failed them both and for a few seconds protocol meant squat. Those moments were silent and brief; sometimes he wondered if they even existed. Maybe they were just hallucinations he created in the dimness of the warehouse. Delusions he used to justify why he couldn't keep away from her.

            This would be simple… except for the fact that they weren't just in his imagination. Whatever he felt for Sydney Bristow was as real as the air he breathed. It was as real as the emotions he saw reflected in her eyes when they stared into his: loyalty, respect, devotion, desire. 

            It was enough to make him so patient with her. He would wait until SD 6 was put down; he would endure with Sydney's insistence that Will Tippin had to be kept safe. All for the simple truth that he loved her and she loved him. 

            He would do everything in his power to make her happy and keep her protected and prove beyond a doubt that he was worthy of her. 

            Vaughn flopped back on the couch and for the millionth time that day dreamed up alternate ways his last encounter with Sydney could've ended. He thought of all the things that he said much too late. They all ended with "I love you." In reality, he knew he could never have said that aloud. He also knew that it would not have been enough to make her stay.

            He leaned over and picked a photograph off the table. Sydney was leaning against a wood railing. He could see the ocean in the background and a breeze which caused the folds in her sundress to ripple. Her head was slightly downcast and her hands were clasped demurely behind her back. Despite her face being tilted down, her eyes were laughingly fixed on the camera. She looked both coy and alluring.

            It was the only photo he had of her that she had given him. They had been in the warehouse and she was so excited to show him photos from her trip to Santa Cruz with Will and Francie. He supposed that these days she could hardly stand to look at them.

            As she showed him the photographs and explained each of them in great detail he felt a small joy blossom inside of him. For a time he could allow himself to be coaxed into her world and be happy knowing that she was happy.

            When she came to that particular picture, he was struck by it. He didn't know how anybody could look so beautiful and natural doing it.

            _"Oh yeah that one," __Sydney__ said. "Will insisted that we had to get a shot of me with an ocean backdrop." Lucky bastard that Will._

_            "Can I have it?" He wanted to kick himself at the audacity in his voice. Even __Sydney__ looked slightly taken aback by his bluntness._

_            Just as he was about to bs his way out of the situation by using a quick CIA-related excuse, she smiled. He was surprised to see a rosy blush on her cheeks._

_            "Umm…sure." Her smile was too radiant as she handed him the photo._

_            He had far too many moments like these where he had to restrain himself from kissing her._

_            It was his favorite photograph._

            He sighed deeply. How long could he keep doing this to himself? He fooled Devlin and he managed to fool Barnett on some level. Besides Weiss and probably Jack Bristow, he had got everyone at the CIA offices to believe that he had emotionally detached himself from Sydney. People no longer snickered when he came down the hall. The whispers about his unhealthy attachment to her had ceased. It seems that he had shed that distasteful reputation and he should be grateful for that.

            Then again, he never really cared what those double-speaking asses at Langley said about him. All that mattered was that whenever she looked at him, he felt wonderful.

            "Sydney," he murmured. He traced the curves of the photograph.

            Then he jumped up when he heard the phone ring. He glared at it. How many times had he hoped that it would be her on the other line to summon his presence like so many times before.

            He picked it up, unable to ward away the hope that it would be her. "Hello?"

            "Vaughn?" It was Weiss. Vaughn held back a groan.

            "Hey man. What's up?"

            "You better get down here."

            "Why? I was sleeping." Liar.

            "Just get down here."  There was a sense of urgency in his voice.

            _Maybe it's about Syd. Maybe something happened to her._

_            "I'll be right there."_

End part 1 tbc


	2. underground

Chapter 2: Underground

Spoilers: Trust Me and The Enemy Walks In

Note: All this is slightly AU

Rating: PG 13 still

            Vaughn arrived at the underground US joint task force building, relatively dry despite the rain. He straightened his dark suit and prayed that he looked halfway put together. He had pretty much thrown on the first thing he saw in his closet that looked professional. He didn't bother to check if it was wrinkled. 

            As he walked through the rotunda, he couldn't help but detest the surroundings. Everyone there looked so much alike. They resembled worker bees in a hive.

            To think that before he met Sydney he had been one of those anonymous drones. All he cared about was doing the job and getting it right the first time. Affection and other tender feelings did not fit into his time-managed agenda.

            Now as he surveyed his fellow workers, he wondered if any of them had ever been labeled emotionally attached. He was betting no.

            "Agent Michael Vaughn." He turned at the sound of his name. Then felt his mouth automatically curl into a sneer.

            "Agent Kendall," he replied, his voice clipped. It was one of the men who worked for the DSR. One of the bastards who shackled up Sydney, as Vaughn watched, all because she had her image on Rambaldi's page 47. That premature misconception could've cost Sydney her freedom and possibly her life. Vaughn found it difficult not to sucker punch him now for the incident. The man was Haladki without the annoying hair.

            "Ah you remember me." Kendall looked pleased. 

            _How could anyone forget a face that looked as though it never knew a joke?_

_            "What brings you here? And more importantly when are you leaving?" Vaughn couldn't resist such a venomous crack._

            "CIA. Always so diplomatic when it comes to interagency liaisons. It's what I love about them." Vaughn repressed a shudder. "Oh look, agent, I didn't come here to start a fight."

            _Too bad. I'm always up for kicking your ass, you smarmy little… Vaughn scowled. "So why are you here?"_

            "I'm here on a federal matter that somehow relates to you."

            "If this is about Sy- Agent Bristow," Vaughn quickly caught himself, "I've been taken off her case." _So whatever plan you may have to use her I am completely prepared to tell you to take a hike._

_            Kendall regarded him thoughtfully for a minute. "Come with me Agent Vaughn."_

            "Where?"

            "You'll see."

            _Why do I not like the sound of that?_

            If Vaughn disliked the operations center of the building, he hated to holding cells even more. It was dark and overflowed with shadows. It practically screamed that the Agency had something to hide.

            _It's all a bit too __Hannibal__ Lecter for me, Vaughn thought as the bars to the holding area opened and they were granted access._

            Kendall gestured him to a particular cell and Vaughn suspiciously approached it and peered inside.

            A woman stood right inside the middle of the cage with her back turned to him. With the way her chocolate brown hair spilled over her shoulders and the way her figure curved, she was a dead ringer for…

            "Syd?" Vaughn whispered. His heartbeat quickened and Kendall's presence was forgotten in a beat as he pressed his hands against the glass.

            The woman slowly turned to face him. Vaughn froze in his tracks and took the time to study her features. Same eyes, same cheekbones, same lip shape…but not. Something about this woman's beauty cast an icy spell over him. He took a step back.

            "Not Syd," he murmured as he realized who he was face to face with.

            The woman approached the glass. Her face considered him with feline curiosity. She tilted her head. "Syd," she purred thoughtfully. Her eyes widened. "Sydney. My daughter. You are acquainted with her?" Her words felt like cold fingers that brushed down his spine. He shivered.

            "Irina Derevko." He hoped that the frost in his voice would halt the spinning in his head.

            "Michael Vaughn. How lovely to finally meet you." Her tone was sing-song with a hint of knowing. She leaned forward; the expression on her face made him feel exposed as she took him in. She smiled. _My God that's __Sydney__'s smile._

_            "Might I comment," she breathed, "on how much you look like you father."_

            Vaughn slammed Kendall against the wall, well aware that he was irrational but not really giving a damn. The older agent made a nice little thud against the stone and said "Oomph."

            Adrenaline and rage made a heady combination as they coursed through his system, ready to inflict hurt on the next asshole he saw. 

            _Hey, I actually feel better._

_            Vaughn had Kendall roughly by his lapels and pinned to the wall. He got right up in his face and hissed "What the fuck do you think you're doing! Showing that woman to me! Knowing what she did to my father! To Sydney!"_

            "Agent Vaughn," Kendall said in an attempt to placate him, "Please calm down."

            "Calm down?" Vaughn snarled. He yanked him forward and slammed him against the wall again. "Calm down! You show me the whore who killed my father, shot Sydney, and whose associate nearly made me scalpel fodder and you expect me to what?! Shake her hand? Is this some kind of strategy to see how mentally ill you could make me?"

            "Vaughn, I can have you arrested for accosting a high ranking officer of the DSR!"

            "I bet you'd love that." Vaughn forcefully released Kendall who stumbled back.

            "Irina Derevko is here for a reason. If you'd let me explain-"

            "There's nothing to explain," Vaughn interjected harshly. "That woman is a goddamn traitor to US government and a murderess. So unless we're giving her the award for worse homemaker of the year, haul her ass off to the nearest maximum security prison where she belongs."

            "Derevko turned herself into CIA custody this afternoon. She wants to cooperate with the Agency." Vaughn felt his mouth drop open.

            "And you believe her?" he asked incredulous. _This guy outranks me? Seriously?_

_            Kendall ignored his skepticism. "Derevko assures us that she has information that will prove useful and vital to taking down SD 6 and the Alliance."_

            "I'll bet," Vaughn scoffed. "So I guess the question is what the CIA is willing to compromise by taking her word."

            Kendall studied his young and insolent counterpart. Then he smiled. "You are right in assuming there is a catch." Vaughn settled back. "The only person she is willing to talk to is Agent Bristow herself."

            The light bulb finally clicked in Vaughn's head. "You want me to get Sydney to speak to her mother." 

            "The Agency is well aware of your close bond to Agent Bristow. It's nice to know that some good will actually come of it." Vaughn fumed at such a statement. He made it sound as if his friendship with Sydney was something that might be fun to exploit.

            "Forget it."

            "Well we certainly can't convince Ms. Bristow to see her mother. You remember that unpleasantness with page 47?"

            "You mean when you chained her up and nearly blew her cover at SD 6? Can't imagine why she'd still be upset over that. I mean I am way over it," Vaughn said sarcastically. He crossed his arms. "Well as much as I'd love to help you manipulate her, I can't. Like I said before she's no longer my agent. One of her mother's agents killed a close friend and she's grieving."

            But Kendall wouldn't budge. "Well, perhaps if you called her-"

            "Might I add," Vaughn cut in, "that even if I was still her case officer, I would never force her to speak to her mother against her will."

            Kendall gave a smarmy smirk. "Always Agent Bristow's great protector." The smug way he said that made Vaughn want to bitch slap the hell out of him. "Just like the time you broke her out of federal custody." Another arrogant smile. "To protect her."

            _Oh shit he knows about that?_

_            "Agent Vaughn regardless of Agent Bristow's state, we have a job to do. Whether she likes it or not, she will aid us."_

            Vaughn stepped up to Kendall, his eyes smoldering. "Stay the hell away from Sydney," he hissed, his tone dripping with unsaid threats.

            "I can't do that unless she speaks to her mother."

            Manipulative jerk-off. An ugly way to resolve the situation came to mind. "What if I spoke to Derevko myself? Find out what I can from her without having to contact Bristow." 

            "Whatever intel you can get out of her would be fine. But sooner or later Agent Bristow will become involved." In a low, conspiratorial voice he said "You can't shield her forever." With those words, Kendall turned and left Vaughn alone with his conflict.

            Vaughn watched him go and resisted the urge to knock him on his ass. He was angry with Kendall and also at himself.

            _You can't shield her forever._

_            "Don't I know it," Vaughn muttered._


	3. grace

Chapter 3: Grace

Spoilers: Still sort of AU from Trust Me

            Vaughn trudged back to where Irina Derevko stalked her cell like an impatient tigress. "I'd like to see the prisoner," he told the guard. The man nodded and granted him access.

            The stretch of walk down the hall seemed more sinister than it had before.

            In her cage, Derevko waited. He watched her, a revolting fascination welling up inside. The woman was a pro in every sense of the word and that had to gather a little respect no matter how reluctant. He hated her with a passion he had thought himself incapable of yet she was also the woman who brought the one he loved into this world. A part of him did not know whether to thank her or shoot her dead. Maybe one day he could do both.

            When she finally noticed his presence, she glided up to the glass to greet him.

            "Hello again."

            "Ms. Derevko," Vaughn said, terse. "I'll make this short: you say you have information that the CIA needs. What is it?"

            She studied him. Vaughn held back the need to vomit and steeled himself. When she continued to stare at him in a manner that disintegrated his control, he said in a sharp voice "All right. You know the thing about agreeing to cooperate is that it sort of requires you to cooperate. It's a silly form of etiquette we humans have."

            Finally she spoke. "Not without my daughter present."

            Vaughn clenched his jaw. "Agent Bristow is currently off active duty. You will not be getting anything from her."

            "Well then, you won't get a thing from me."

            _You bitch. "Ms. Derevko, Sydney is incredibly unguarded right now. Your presence will do nothing more than confuse and upset her. Something I would just as well like to keep her from." _

            Derevko lifted her chin. "I have a right to see my child."

            "After what you've done to this country, I hazard that your rights may waiver somewhat," Vaughn told her, his voice harsh. 

            She was silent. Vaughn sighed. Contesting with the prisoner would get them nowhere. "Look. Tell me what you know. And I will do my best to…convince Sydney to see you." _I really hate myself._

_            She stared at him, sizing up his integrity. She pushed a strand of hair from her face. "Promise?"_

            _You promised. You promised me Vaughn._

_            In one horrifying moment, Vaughn thought that he was looking at Sydney instead her mother. _

            He swallowed. "I promise that … I will do my best."

            She nodded. "All right."

            When she was finished, Vaughn walked out of the holding area. He couldn't get away from her or Kendall fast enough. He loathed them both and himself even more.

            When he made it outside, he breathed in the cool night air to regain his composure. 

            Two promises. In order to keep one he had to break the other.

            _I am so sorry, __Sydney__._

_            He intended to drive right by her apartment, honest to God he did. But as Vaughn drove to his own apartment after his frosty encounter with Irina Derevko, his thoughts turned to Sydney. It was only natural, right? The two were practically mirror images of one another, give or take a few years. It was impossible to think of her without also thinking of the daughter who resembled her._

            Before he knew it, he was cruising down her familiar street. It occurred to him that he had never told her that he knew where she lived. 

            _Yeah, I'm really not a stalker, he thought, humorously self-deprecating. He parked his car a safe, unseen distance away from her yard._

            Then he waited. He waited all the while thinking _This is crazy. You're crazy._

_            But crazy people couldn't help themselves. A plea of insanity alone was enough to make him stake out her complex on the off chance that she would…_

            Sydney emerged from the hallway. Vaughn's body gave a start when he saw her. Through the large front window, he watched as she moved about her living room. There was dullness to the way she walked as if her feet were weighed down.

            _Yeah, despair does that to a person. Like lead it burdens the soul. He let out a shuddery breath. She used to be so …even when it seemed that she bore the sins of the universe on her shoulders, there was still a fire in her eyes and lightness to her step. Sydney Bristow had been nothing less than a force of nature, bold and undeniable. _

            But these days, she was nothing more than a shade. A flicker of animation that was alive but much too dead to care. The Sydney Bristow he knew was gone and buried along with her friend. It didn't mean he loved her any less.       

            The room was bathed in a fluorescent orange, too bright, too harsh, and the illusion of warmth seemed to mock them both. Vaughn would never again be able to touch her warmth and Sydney no longer looked aware of it. The darkness had swallowed them both and they were lost to it. 

            Vaughn watched, hungry, as she sank onto the couch. To any passerby, she appeared so normal, but it was all a cover. Whether it concerned her loyalties or her grief, there had always been a mask that Sydney hid behind. SD 6, CIA, none of them knew who she was nor did they care to. The only person she dared to reveal herself to was Vaughn and he took a pleasurable honor in that. Now she was all alone with her pain and no one could possibly understand how it was killing her.

            The phone rang. Sydney's head jerked up startled. It had been awhile to since she'd gotten a call. Tentatively, she picked it up. "Hello?"

            "Joey's Pizza?" Vaughn said into his cell as he kept his eyes on Sydney's face. His grip tightened as his heart beat against his ribs. 

            There was silence on the other end. Vaughn tried to interpret the flashes of emotion on her face. Surprise, definitely. Panic, maybe. But there was one emotion…

            Perhaps it was all in his attention-starved mind, but for a fraction of a second, a light shone on her face. For a minute she was Sydney again. Then it was gone.

            "Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Sorry, wrong number."

            "The pier," he said and hung up. He placed his hands on the steering wheel and rested his chin on it as he waited for a reaction.

            She stood there, staring at the phone, at nothing. Then, with a solemn face she replaced it. It was impossible to determine what she would do as doubt and need warred upon her features.

            For Vaughn, it was easy to tell when she was torn up inside. She would turn her head away and bite her lip just to hold back the tears. Her eyes used to beg him to remove the hurt and it cut him up to see her in such anguish. 

            Life would never be fair toward her, he decided.

            But then again, life in itself was not meant to be fair.       

            Sydney got up and paced the room as she fought a losing battle with herself. Vaughn knew that doubt would keep her away from the meet; but need, the same need that compelled him to spy on her, would draw her to the pier. 

            "Don't let me down, Syd," he whispered. By some divine force he managed to tear himself away from the woman he loved. He put the car in gear and drove away.

            Weiss was waiting for him back at his apartment. To Vaughn's chagrin, his friend was examining the photos of Sydney that lay on the table.

            "Nice to know that after two months of not seeing her, you've started to move on," Weiss observed with his usual dry wit. Vaughn was not amused. 

            Vaughn threw his jacket on a chair and glared at Weiss. "Did you just come here to rag on my ass?"

            "Nah. I can rag on your ass any time I want." He put a photo down and folded his hands. "Just come to see how you were doing."

            "I'm fine." He did not bother to put conviction in the lie. 

            "Your unwholesome obsession on Sydney aside, I was talking about something else." Vaughn stayed silent. "You met with Derevko at the joint task force building tonight."

            "Yeah, thanks for the head's up on that." Vaughn instantly regretted the hostility in his voice. He was directing it at the wrong person. "Ah shit, Eric. I'm sorry. I had a bad night."

            Weiss shrugged. "It's ok. I can imagine that it hasn't been a fun time for you as of late. First, Sydney dumps you and then the bitch who kills your dad is back-"

            "Syd did not dump me." _To dump would mean that we were together in the first place. _

_            "Right. She just told you to get lost for the hell of it."_

            "I told you, I promised her I would stay away." _And I did do a pretty good job of doing so until tonight._

_            Weiss nodded. Then he frowned. "So." He cleared his throat. "Does Sydney look a lot like her mother?"_

            Vaughn made a sardonic sound in his throat. "So much it hurts. It was like looking at an image of her in the future." Vaughn didn't want to tell Weiss, but as he spoke to Derevko, he realized that she must have been the last thing that his father ever saw. That meant that Sydney's image was the last thing he saw. 

            "You ok, man? You look pale."

            "I just got a chill. That's all." Weiss couldn't understand how terrifyingly blurry the line between mother and daughter had been while Vaughn was face to face with that woman. Vaughn despised himself for thinking such a thought but there was some truth to it.

            Jack Bristow knew better than anybody charismatically manipulative Irina Derevko could be. He fell under her spell as easily as Vaughn fell under Sydney's.

            Sydney had her mother's wiles, no doubt about that. It used to unnerve Vaughn that whenever she left on a mission she would be forced to exert her charm over some poor dupe in order to retrieve some intel or whatever. And the fact that she did it so well, with an almost carelessness, at times made him a bit jealous.

            She never used her skill on him though. Probably because she knew she didn't have to. The fact that she was more real with him than anyone else was enough to seduce him.

            Weiss picked a piece of sketch paper off the table. He raised an eyebrow. "Did you draw this?"

            Vaughn flushed and bowed his head. "Oh. Yeah."

            "Pretty good likeness of Sydney. In a manic stalker sort of way." He stared at the words on the bottom of the page. "'Between now and forever.' What's that?"

            Vaughn raised his shoulders not really up to explaining. "It was something that my dad used to say to mom. I never knew what it meant though." As his mind continued to sift through the fog of nostalgia, a bittersweet smile came to his face.

            "What?"

            "On the anniversary of the day I met Sydney, I gave her a first edition of _Grimm's Fairy Tales."_

_            "I see you're all subtle with the schoolboy crush."_

            Vaughn went on. "I inscribed those words on the inside cover." The day came back to him, soft and hopeful and distant.

            _"Between now and forever?" __Sydney__ asked, inquisitive._

_            Vaughn ducked his head down. The brightness in her eyes seemed to heighten the redness in his face. "Yeah, it's just something my parent's used to say to each other. I don't know, it sounds like a good thing to say."_

_            Her smile understood. "Between now and forever. Sounds like a promise," she whispered. _

_            She stood on tiptoes and Vaughn could still feel her breath and his heart and she daintily kissed his cheek…_

_            "Sydney said it sounded like a promise," Vaughn recalled, wistful. _

            Weiss clicked his tongue. "Funny. It was a promise that broke you two up in the first place." Vaughn looked at him. Weiss got up and walked over to the door. "I guess it's about time for me to go. I'll see you tomorrow to discuss the op."

            Vaughn watched with passive eyes as Weiss opened the door to leave. But before he did, he looked back at Vaughn. 

            "You know this thing you're putting yourself through because of Sydney? It has a name."

            "What?"

            He waited a beat. "Withdrawal." Weiss left Vaughn to reflect on that.

            _Withdrawal. A bitter, ironic smile came to his face. Of course how perfect. Vaughn couldn't have put it better himself._

            The pier was empty when he got there. It was still cold from the after storm. In the distance, Vaughn could see the first grey hint of the sun over the waves. It would not be long until morning. 

            She was nowhere to be found.

            He let out a frustrated sigh and continued to stare at the water. There was once a time when he found serenity in it. Now, at the brink of his sanity, he was a breath away from hurling himself into the Pacific. 

            When he looked at the waves all he saw was her.

            Minutes passed. Hours passed. The sun rose and a faint yellow beam dawned on his bleak features. The sun did nothing to warm him.

            She wasn't coming. 

            He wanted to wait a little bit longer but common sense told him it would be futile. She would've been here by now.

            Morning came and taunted his mood. It was all dark to him. Cursing himself for the fool he was, he turned and left the pier.

            Sydney observed Vaughn as he left the railing, miserable and obviously hurt because of her.

            _I called him all those times and he always came running. But the one time he does it…I stand him up._

_            "I'm sorry Vaughn," she whispered as she watched him walk away. She emerged from the crates that she hid behind, feeling like she had stabbed herself with her own knife._

            She waited until he was out of sight then moved to the spot where he stood. Early dawn illuminated the clear trail of tears on her face.

            "I just can't. Not yet."   


	4. visitors

Chapter 4: Visitors

Spoilers: slight reference to Enemy Walks In when it starts.

            Vaughn was mesmerized at the blood that stained his hands. He tried to wipe it off on his pants but the crimson tint stayed on his flesh like a scar. He looked up, feeling the eyes of the other patients and patrons in the waiting room as they took in his appearance. Hands smeared in violent redness, he was dirty, unkempt, and the expression of silent torment probably did not help. What seemed to draw the most attention was his task force attire. Wearing it, he must've looked like a soldier of the most elite government unit. Or a hit man who botched the job.

            He ran a hand through his hair, causing Weiss's blood to mingle with golden-brown. He didn't feel like a soldier; he felt like a little boy waiting for news of his father who had been wounded on the battlefield. Anxious, frightened. Above all, helpless. He shut his eyes to tune out the sounds of injury and pain.

            A chilling feeling of déjà vu descended upon him, when he realized that he had been in this place before. Not the hospital itself, but the situation. 

            _I was in a room just like this the day Dad was hurt. I was waiting for news. No, not news. I was hoping. I was hoping the way all little boys hope. That he would be all right but at the same time knowing..._

_            Strange, that at such a young age and knowing so little of the mannerisms of the world around him, he knew the minute he entered the disinfected facility that this very same world would stand on its head. And nothing would ever be the same. __I wonder if God took into account how fragile a child's world could be.          _

_            Before the doctor came in with the news, before he saw his mother burst into tears, at eight years old, Michael Vaughn knew that his father had died. For the first time in his life, he learned what a terrible place the world could be._

            _I'm not eight anymore, he thought feeling his heart clench. __I'm not that helpless little boy who could only stand by and do nothing while the people around him died. I should've done something… reacted better…I should've… A pointless anger flared up inside of him as he remembered his own ineptitude to save his friend during the operation._

            It was supposed to be a simple mission. Retrieve the Bible during the exchange between Khasinou and the courier, then go home praising themselves like the heroes they were.  Everything had gone to plan right to the last detail. But no one had counted on the mystery gunman changing the rules. Before they knew it, bullets began to hail down on the group and they were forced to scatter. Weiss got shot in the neck and it was all Vaughn could do to staunch the flow of blood and not panic. Khasinou got away with the Bible. They never identified the sniper. 

            Vaughn was more than willing to bet that it had been Sark, carrying on the Man's work while she was in custody. 

            _Things happen and you just can't foresee them much less stop them. _

_            Vaughn wondered if Derevko knew that there would be someone backing up Khasinou. Oh well, it didn't matter. If Sydney's mother knew that someone would be waiting for them, it was still Vaughn's fault for not protecting Weiss or not suspecting that Derevko would be setting them up. The mission was a failure and he took that personally. _

            _It's what Dad would do._

_            Vaughn looked up and saw the doctor walking toward him. He stood up. "Agent?"_

            "Yes." _He's going to tell me that my best friend is dead now. He's nothing more than a tally, a statistic, a star on a monument…._

_            "Your friend, Agent Weiss is going to be fine. The operation was a success. He'll have to hospitalize for a few weeks but other than that he'll be all right."_

            Vaughn nearly fell over in relief. "Thank you," he managed to get out." The doctor nodded and walked away. He reached for his cell phone to inform Devlin of the news.

            But for a reason that is still unknown to him, he punched in another number instead.

            "Hello Sydney? It's me…"

            "So what happened with the Bible?" Jack Bristow demanded.

            "Khasinou got away with it. An unseen shooter prevented us from going after him," Vaughn told him.

            Jack scowled and began to pace the warehouse, restless. "She could've easily planned this," he muttered, not talking to Vaughn in particular. "Made it so we would go after her operations manual- and get shot at."

            "That's not what Kendall believes. He says that if Derevko really wanted us dead, she would've taken more drastic measures rather than one lone gunman."

            "Kendall's an ass." Vaughn had to grin at such an accurate assumption. "What matters is that Derevko's associate got away with valuable intel and the CIA is probably feeling more than a little stupid."

            "For trusting her?"

            "For trusting her, for allowing her to remain in CIA custody instead of locking her up and throwing away the key." Bristow looked about ready to destroy something and Vaughn wisely took a step back.

            "Hey, look I agree with you that she cannot be trusted. But as long as the CIA thinks they need her she is going to be a staple there for a long good while."

            "She had an agenda, Mr. Vaughn," Jack said forcefully. "Whatever information the CIA goes to her for will only feed whatever it is she has planned."

            Vaughn was silent. In a tone of soft guilt he said "I went to her for information. We went after the Bible and Weiss got hurt-because of me."

            The resentment on Jack's face softened as he regarded Vaughn. Being who he was he did not know what it was like to lose a friend but he knew something about self-reproach. "How is Weiss?" he said, with an awkward voice.

            _Brownie points for effort. "Doctor says he's going to be fine. He'll be in the hospital for a few weeks but he'll be good…" Vaughn's voice trailed off as he remembered with heavy dread his conversation with Irina._

            _Promise?_

_            "Mr. Vaughn? What is it?"_

            _You are so not going to love me when I tell you this. Vaughn braced himself for the harsh lecture he was sure to get from the older agent. "In order to get Derevko to talk I had to promise her that I would attempt to get Sydney to talk to her."_

            The lashing came quick and brutal. "I'll assume that you were drunk when you gave this promise?" Jack said in a cutting tone that Vaughn did not appreciate.

            "I am going to try not to resent that-"

            "This woman has a secret motive to everything she does." Jack's voice rose to a daunting level. "For all we know her reasons for seeing Sydney may be to manipulate her over to her side. Recruit her for her own reasons."

            The notion gave Vaughn a disgusting heave in his stomach. "Hey, you think that I wanted to give that promise?" Vaughn's defenses began to rise as an uncertain need to justify what he did filled him. "You think I want Sydney to go anywhere near the psychopath who killed my dad?"

            "I don't know what you were thinking. But my daughter is not going anywhere near that woman."

            Vaughn snorted. "I think Kendall may have a problem with that." 

            "I am just about ready to tell Kendall where he could stick his problems," he growled.

            "Yes. Great," Vaughn shot back. "And while we draw up plans to jump him one night, he actually threatened to make Sydney speaking to her mother company policy."

            "What?"

            Vaughn sighed. "The night that Derevko turned herself in, Kendall told me that he would force Sydney to speak to her, free will or not. That's why I went to Derevko in the first place. So Sydney wouldn't have to." Jack sighed in trepidation. "He said that it would only be a matter of time until Sydney became involved."

            Jack turned away from Vaughn. He walked about the room as if to search for some long lost answer to his conflict. "After everything Sydney had been through… Francie's death…her mother's return may do nothing more that cloud her perspective more so. In the vulnerable state that Sydney has encased herself in…"

            Vaughn blanched. "It's not possible… Jack you don't think that Sydney could actually be turned against the CIA?"

            The same nagging doubt was written all over Jack's face. "All Sydney ever wanted was a stable force in her life. If she thinks that her mother could offer her that-"

            "Mother!" Vaughn exploded as his stomach revolted at such a thought. "All the woman did was lie to her and abandon her! All she did was kill and betray and hurt! Does that sound like a mother to you? Derevko thinks that a fucking façade of maternal tenderness and goodwill could ever alter what she is-"

            "You have no idea how persuasive this woman could be. She is as single-minded as Sydney-" Jack grew silent. 

            "Sydney is nothing like her mother," Vaughn reassured him in a voice that showed more certainty than he felt. "If she was-how would I ever be able to look at her?"

            Jack looked down. "I think that Sydney has fixed that problem for both of us." Vaughn glanced at him. "I have not seen her for two months and-" Vaughn could have sworn that Jack's voice broke "- I am worried for her."

            "I miss her too."

            They were both very quiet for a moment both aware that they were thinking of the same thing. "I have to go."

            Vaughn nodded and watched him leave. The warehouse felt hollow and dark where it wasn't dark before.

            "When can I see my daughter?"

            Vaughn choked back a biting, smart ass reply. "Ms. Derevko, as I explained before, Agent Bristow is on leave-"

            "She's in mourning." Derevko's eyes were closed as she meditated. She looked like a mystic in the act of receiving a message from beyond. Vaughn had come to notice the dreamy essence that floated around her making it hard to concentrate on his words.

            "Yes."

            "I told you where to get the Bible. You promised that I would see my daughter." 

            "I promised that I would try." Derevko blinked open her eyes and stared at Vaughn's stern expression. "Might I add that we never actually got the operations manual. A shooter covered Khasinou as he escaped."

            A faraway smile came across her face. "Sark." There was a hint of pride in her voice and it took Vaughn everything he had not to draw his gun and take aim at that smirk.

            "We believed as much. So if you can tell us where he may have taken the Bible-"

            Suddenly, her eyes lit up. They gleamed with a stunning clarity. "You haven't told Sydney that I turned myself in? Have you?"

            _Fuck._

_            Her face was serene as it dealt with his deception. "That's why she never came. Because she never knew."_

_            Keep telling yourself that. "Ms. Derevko, the reason I never told Sydney that you surrendered yourself in is because I'm still not sure why you surrendered yourself."_

            "Maybe because I want to help." She looked mischievous as though she had a very amusing secret. Vaughn wanted to shake her.

            Instead, he let out a cold laugh. "That's funny. I'm sure that the CIA will have a good chuckle over that one."

            Then her face became as all pretenses seemed to melt away. "I understand your reserves agent. You think that I have something malevolent planned for my child and you want to protect her." She came close to the glass. "I want to protect her too."

            Vaughn frowned. "From what?"

            She gave him a stealthy smile. "From you." He felt his jaw detach in a very unprofessional manner.

            "What. The. Fuck is that supposed to mean?" he snarled. The woman was deranged. She was cunning and evil and Vaughn decided then and there not to believe another word she said. He would no sooner hurt Sydney than he would hurt the future mother of his children.

            Her eyes held his and forced him to listen. "Don't tell me you don't see it. That this life-it's killing her."

            "All courtesy, ma'am but this life is not what put a bullet in her shoulder."

            She brushed Taipei aside. "I was only trying to make a point. But you-you should be proud. Even after everything I've done the CIA and SD6 have done more damage to her than I could ever accomplish. That's quite a feat." She pressed against the glass.

 "One day," she breathed, "she will be sent on a mission and she won't return. Who will you have to blame but yourselves? You and all your ideas of patriotism." There was an almost sadness in her voice. "When it  comes to death there is no honor, only victims."

            Her words pierced him like an arrow. "That sounds a lot like an argument a traitor would use. I have considered the hazards of the job." Inside he was shaking.

            "Have you?" She appraised him. "You're just a boy." Vaughn flushed such a demeaning description of himself.

            "I'd like to think that I have more experience than a boy."

            "You think you know the pain she carries. You don't. You have no idea what it is like to see what she has seen. And to still find any strength left to face another day." Vaughn looked away.

            "This life leaves wounds. Scars that will never heal and for as long as she lives she'll look back and wonder when it was exactly that she lost herself. Where among the deceit and loss that any chance of grace was lost to her." Quiet outrage began to bleed into her voice. "It won't matter if she's alive. Inside, she'll be too dead to care."

            Vaughn looked down when he felt a small bite on his palm. He realized that he had been digging into it with his thumbnail and a small red crescent was imprinted there. Turmoil bubbled within as he searched for his voice. "You don't give your daughter enough credit. She's stronger than that."

            She looked into his face, fascinated. "So much faith," she said in a reflective tone. "Perhaps there is hope for her yet. But some things don't change." Vaughn did not ask what; he did not want to know. "In this life, she is alone."

            "She's not," he said before realizing that at this point in time it was true.

            "Yes she is. When it comes to pain…we are always alone. The more she fights, the more she will come to realize it."

            The intense conviction in her words frightened him. Not so much as the knowledge that what she said was true. It was true because he knew it was true.

            No matter how much he loved Sydney _I can't protect her._

_            "I could save her from such a life." Vaughn stared at her for a few moments._

            "You're good," he confessed with an icy smile. "But you are a fool if you think that I will allow you any pathway you could use to manipulate her."

            She gave her dreamy smile again. "I would never manipulate Sydney. That would hurt her and I never want to do that." She paused and let her next words sink in.

            "That's your job, Michael."

            Vaughn emerged from the holding area, dragging some of the blackness back into the rotunda with him. He blinked as though he had awoken from some quiet nightmare as the light from the operations center hit his eyes. He was blinded. 

            Dazed, he stared at the other agents who swarmed the place and felt his revulsion grow, Irina's words diffusing through him like a virus. _We call ourselves patriots as we help destroy lives. Civil blood is spilled and we call it sacrifice._

_            I hurt __Sydney__. She hurts me. And I call it love._

_            For a second, he saw something twisted enough to look like the truth: clockwork creatures, which are all they ever were. Someone was always there to pull the strings, wind them up and send them off to whatever suicide mission arrived on the agenda. _

            _Blind. That's all I've ever been. Irina's words and that foggy voice with so many secrets had crawled under his skin. In the short time he'd been with her she knew him. With those clear, all-seeing eyes, she saw right through the suit and managed to stab the man. She saw every dark fear and desire he harbored for her daughter. And in a flash, she judged him and made him feel repentant for some flaw only she could see._

            Through the rotunda, he wandered like a dead man. Dead because the only thing that made him alive had walked away from him first. She left him cold and useless like a puppet in a box. He wondered if this was how she felt that day in the cemetery: glass eyes, bones like iron. Only hearing the echo of her footsteps as she left behind all hope. 

            Vaughn ignored Kendall's prying eyes and continued his steady, robotic pace out of the joint task force building.

            The kicker, the real miserable part was that he already knew. Guilt compounded grief and anguish. He didn't need Irina to enlighten him of Sydney's agony. The blue circles under her eyes much like the bruises she also bore told him.

            _This life is killing her. And I held the knife. All those missions I sent her on…and I didn't see. He clenched. __Because I wouldn't let myself see. It was enough that she was strong and brave and so fucking perfect in my eyes. But she's so human…so open to hurt._

_            That night he splashed water on his face but the words clung to him, soaked so deep to the bone. He glanced up at his reflection. With the liquid in his eyes, his image looked dim and ambiguous. Deceptive even._

            _I hurt her. She hurts me. It's our way._

_            The next thing he felt was the breath sickeningly knocked out of him. He dropped to his knees before the toilet and vomited until he felt nothing else for the time being._

            When he finished purging he headed over to the hospital. As much as he loathed that place and all the decay it stood for, it was stable. There was something steady about its impersonal halls and faceless doctors. And that was what he needed during the fluctuation of emotions he was feeling at the moment. Something to forget about that voice and its seductive and shrewd tones that spoke half-truths in volumes. He needed regain his footing.

            As he walked toward Weiss' room he began to practice a funny opening line to tell him. He couldn't enter while he was still coiled with hurt and anger. He didn't feel like unloading all his problems on a patient; he just wanted to weather through the tumult and be normal again. 

            Vaughn swung the door open. "Hey Eric. So I taped all the episodes of Smallville for you, even though I find your obsession with the chick who plays Lana completely inappropriate and deviant-"

            Vaughn lifted up his head and glanced at Weiss. His friend looked startled at his presence. He was about to ask why when Weiss' eyes flicked toward the corner of the room.

            Vaughn turned, confused. And at once forgot how to breathe.

            Sydney Bristow stared at him intently, a familiar tenderness playing on her features. She gave a coy smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Vaughn's heart cracked.

            "Hey Vaughn."

tbc 


End file.
